Abyss
by Delicious Mud Pie
Summary: A fic in the first person. Sort of lopsided gymshipping. I'm new at writing in THIS style, so it might suck. : Wait yes, it does suck. I was a dumb child.


Abyss  
  
  
  


_Would I write your name in the sand,  
And watch the waves carry it away?  
Rather than hide behind the shades,  
Rather than waste away into mist?  
To wait in a the dark, pace in a closet,  
Is to wither into dampened insanity.  
When I cry your name it sounds wrong,  
Like I'm grasping for something that isn't mine.  
When I start to shout to you I am ashamed,  
Like you'd condemn me for wanting you.  
There are no flowers that bloom in the dark,  
There are no soft goodbyes which lovers speak,  
To be felt at all by the soul of another,  
I roll away on the crest of a wave,  
Taken downstream from desire possessed,  
Death rolls off the tongue as if a thing fleeting,  
Without embraces we sometimes embrace nothing,  
Further into eternity we plunge,  
Softer like the wind does indulge,  
In the nightmares of one like me,  
Slapping cold into the face of loneliness,  
Shoving salt into gaping wounds.  
I continue to sing the words into the wall,  
Never turning to face you.  
I continue to live, not knowing how,  
I manage without telling you.  
  
_ It was like staring through a window at myself--when I watched him wipe her tears away. It was something I would do, something I wanted to do, yet it was not me. It wouldn't be difficult for me to lose my mind when I see such things. The edge called me closer one time--one time when her fingers actually clasped around his own.   
  
Sometimes, when I talk to her, my lips become numb as they lose consciousness, overwhelmed by desire to stop the chatter and press themselves against her own lips--but I know that life doesn't work that way.   
  
I don't know why I had to wake up that night, why my eyes fluttered open to greet the leaves of the trees above me. I don't know what kind of masochistic desire my mind had in store for me when I turned inward, facing the doused fire and facing towards the sleeping bags of my friends, and I found her leaning over, kissing--  
  
Not me. That was for sure.  
  
I suddenly felt the night's cold very intensely, and I shuddered in my sleeping bag. The sudden movement startled her--and she turned to me, wide eyed.  
  
Please don't tell! she whispered. He's asleep! I don't want him to know!  
  
But I didn't make any promises that night. I just turned around, choking terribly on a ball of disbelief which welled in my throat. I don't know if she heard me cry. I don't know if she'd really care.  
  
But today, I--I don't know if I can handle what's happening. I announced that I wasn't sticking around any more. I was going home. And she started to cry.  
  
And he pulled her into _his_ arms to comfort her. As if I was just some filthy excuse so they could get closer to each other. Well, they could have it that way, if that's how they wanted it.  
  
I walked off, or at least tried to.  
  
The night before I'd been thinking a lot about how I handle depression. I usually suppress it. I've laughed like a fool when I've been proven worthless time and time again as each woman I ask on a date or whatever rejects me. I always thought that Misty pulled me away from them because maybe she actually _did_ like me.   
  
And I guess that's why I started to fall for her.  
  
And I guess that's why I can be summed up in one word. Pathetic.  
  
When I was young I was just as pathetic. Huge losses in battles in my gym happened often--and all that came of it was a little bit less food on the table for my siblings and I. Everyone, even my siblings think that I just managed,' that things got better, and that I was none the worse for hard times and being a pathetic failure.  
  
But no--being pathetic didn't stop there. I remember one day--though I'd prefer to forget it--when I'd had an almost successful day. I was only about eleven at the time, so I was still getting the hang of being on my own, without even my worthless parents around to help. I was about to close, when a man who had to have been at least twenty years old walked in and challenged me.  
  
I sighed and fought him, gritting through my teeth as I cited gym leader code which required that I accept all challenges.  
  
The man must have thought he was pretty slick, because he fought solely with a lapras. I was down for the count, and begrudgingly handed him the scraps for money that he was owed.  
  
But that wasn't enough.  
  
My pokémon were down for the count, and there was nothing I could do. Nothing--nothing that someone so pathetic could do.  
  
The gym was empty as it was late, so no one was there to help when the jerk lifted me up by my shoulders and threw me against the wall. My head cracked against the stucco, and I could no longer think straight. All there was to think about was the pounding and the throbbing and the blood that seemed to shower onto my hand from a wound that had been opened on impact. My back wasn't much better.   
  
I didn't fight him off as he emptied my pockets of _all_ I had left, and I didn't do anything but grind my teeth together as he backhanded me into unconsciousness so that I couldn't call the police after him.  
  
I woke probably a good hour later, and it was completely dark outside. My throat tasted of rusted metal as I immediately snorted a good deal of blood upon waking, as my face had been drowning in a pool of it which had surrounded my nose. My lips and ears and hair and the entire left side of my face was caked in blood, and I stood up, teary eyed like the wimp I was, and I held my nose to stop the bleeding.   
  
I felt almost asphyxiated as I stumbled around the gym.  
  
I felt my belt, tears coming more quickly than ever.  
  
No one but me really remembers that the geodude I have now was not the first one I ever had.  
  
My first one was stolen.  
  
So at that point I didn't have a pokémon and I didn't have money and I looked like I'd painted myself red for no good reason. My left eye was almost glued shut, and it sickened me. I gagged on the thought of my blood and my pokémon and how absolutely worthless I was proving to be.  
  
So I ran, I ran out the doors, ignoring the cold as it snapped furiously at the all too small clothing I wore, for lack of something better, and ran into the streets of the city, not caring where I ended up.  
  
And where I ended up--in an alleyway with a mob of teenagers.  
  
They gave me a new pokémon, but it was in exchange for my soul. I was desperate. When they said, what do you want, kid? I'd taken them seriously while in my deliria. I said I wanted my geodude back.   
  
I guess I was a lot of fun for them. My new geodude was at a very low level, and it took me forever to raise it to match the old one. I called the police, eventually, but the man who robbed me was never caught. It was just as well. Maybe I needed someone to rob my soul. Maybe it was fate.   
  
They'd laugh as they sent me to break windows and steal. I had to run from more guard dogs than I ever knew existed. There's still a bite mark on my calf where I had to bean a pit bull in the head with a rock when it wouldn't let go, but it's so faint now that I would have to point it out for anyone to see it.  
  
Most of the places they had me trash or steal from were the homes of dealers that had given them bad deals, or that they had stupid grudges against for stupid reasons. I don't know why I did it. Except that, for some strange reason, I thought I belonged.  
  
I know now that I was the stupid little kid that tagged along with them. I thought I was something special when they gave me the ends of their joints to smoke, or little bits of whatever drugs they were doing at the time. I knew drugs were bad, but I liked them. I felt like I was getting away from things, at least for a little while.  
  
The most pathetic part of all was that I wasn't really caring for my family at all for about a month, while all this was happening. We probably all lost fifteen pounds that month, and I cringe and nearly sob just thinking about it. Even now.  
  
I eventually got away from the gang when they started to dabble in terrible crimes. I never came back to them one day, when they'd beaten and stolen money from a woman. They probably know it was me who snitched to the cops, but for some reason they never came back to kill me.  
  
Maybe they should have.  
  
I did _nothing_, absolutely _nothing_ but care for my family from then until I was about fourteen. That's when I began to unravel again.  
  
I knew, even when I was thirteen, that I had this insatiable urge to find someone who would love me. The girls I knew started calling me a slut because of how many times I'd asked them all out.  
  
But oh, how nice it would be to have a girlfriend, how sweet it would feel if someone would hold me, if someone would care about me--but I know now that I'm too pathetic.  
  
I should have known it then, but it took Misty to prove it to me.  
  
I fought back the pain everyone just laughed whenever I'd try and get a girlfriend. Even the really desperate girls just laughed at me, because I was the most desperate of all.   
  
And desperate is what I was, and am. It's almost like--almost like hunger how I crave attention. Somewhere I knew and know that it's not really love I feel whenever I see a pretty woman and throw myself at her as if men were going out of style. My mind tears itself apart.   
  
_Hold me--take care of me--make me feel important.  
  
_I want to feel like something I'm not.  
  
Anyway, when I was almost fifteen, about a month before I joined Ash, I was near exploding. Some jerk was spreading rumors around town that I was really gay, that's why I always tried to get a girlfriend. To cover it up.  
  
Normally that wouldn't have been the end of the world, I would have denied it. But I don't see why now. Gay guys got far more respect than me. No one cared if I was gay or not--the fact that they had something to chastise me for, whether it was something real or something stupid--it was enough to get everyone to come and try to beat me up, or throw rocks through the gym windows--  
  
I'd taken to just sitting in there. In the dark. I had an onix by that time, and I was winning enough money to keep my family fed. I still took care of them, when they needed it. I cooked, cleaned, sewed--like a robot, with a smile plastered on my stupid face though an abyss hid behind it. The darkness was the only place I could go, to be alone, to rock back and forth and think about nothing.  
  
So, when my dad came back and said I could leave, I did. I was dwindling away to nothing. Even though it WAS weird to suddenly take off, leaving them with someone who I wasn't sure would be able to handle it, but it had to be better then how the state of things would become if I stayed.  
  
And with Ash, my depression was lifted. A hundred fold. I met Misty and held back that uncontrollable emotion of mine, and was just her friend.   
  
I kept back, and played with her, like a friend. I loved her. And I loved Ash. As friends.  
  
But over time, it just didn't work. I was definitely in love, I thought. I was always afraid that it wasn't real love, even though my mind and body screamed at me that it was love like no other love, and that if I could only be with her I would be complete.  
  
So when I turned to leave that day, I just collapsed.  
  
Misty. Crying to Ash.  
  
Misty. Kissing Ash.  
  
That's all I could think of as I lye on the floor, sobbing like a woman, shaking like a child.  
  
_Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.  
  
_Misty must have pulled away from Ash's comfort; however, because she did lean down to put her arms around me.  
  
Misty's eyes narrowed with concern, what's wrong with you, all the sudden?  
  
I didn't answer. All that escaped my throat was a sobbish moan.  
  
Misty sat me up in her arms, and she was sitting on the ground as well. She put a saddened cheek to mind, cradling my hand in hers against her chest.  
  
I felt like a child, curled up in her arms, being rocked back and forth.  
  
I _was_ a child, a child who needed someone besides myself to rely on.  
  
Misty whispered into my ear. Please, tell me what's wrong?  
  
I didn't tell her. I put my head on her shoulder, closing my eyes and letting my tears slide down her pale neck onto her shoulder blades.  
  
Misty looked up to Ash, who was still standing.  
  
Did you do something to him? she asked angrily.  
  
Ash's eyes widened.   
  
I just closed my eyes tightly and pressed my face into her neck, hating a moment I should have loved. A moment I normally would have loved.  
  
Misty sighed, pulling her free arm around me to hold me more tightly. All I did was cry harder. I don't know why I wasn't being cheered up. I just felt like she was only a friend. That was still a good thing, but in my perverse and stupid reality, it wasn't enough.  
  
I don't know what's wrong with you! she shuddered, and I thought I felt tears from her face fall upon mine as well. To mix with mine. Or maybe I just imagined it.  
  
Tell me what's wrong! she nearly shouted, grabbing my hand more tightly. I--I didn't even know something was wrong! You just broke down all of the sudden!  
  
My crying stopped for a moment.  
  
Of course she never knew anything was wrong.  
  
My happy face, my painted scenery over spangled Satan's hell, was that convincing.  
  
You really want to know? I shouted back. You want to know what I've been keeping from you, Misty?  
  
Misty seemed a little frightened as she awaited my answer.She looked back at me, all emotion stunted for the moment as she looked at my face, not knowing what I hid behind it. Could I really scare her?  
  
It's obvious, really, I sniffed, I love you, Misty. If I had three wishes, they'd all be for you. But I know you don't love me.  
  
Misty's expression remained the same, except she grasped my shoulders as she stared, unblinkingly. She'd probably let me go, now. It probably would scare her to have a slut like me around who thought he was in _love _with her.  
  
_Love!_ What a thought. I thought it existed. I thought that my heart beat against my ribs just for her every day and at that moment. I thought that a smokescreened existence couldn't last forever as my breath crept into my lungs for the sole purpose of sustaining me so that she might hold me in her arms one day.  
  
But her arms made me feel sick. It wasn't the euphoria I'd imagined, because I knew that it wasn't out of love. It was tainted by the fact that I knew who she really loved, and it sure as hell wasn't me.  
  
_Not me. Who could love me.  
  
_So that's why I have to leave, I sighed, prepared to stand again.  
  
  
_What if I didn't believe in the dreams  
Which slip through my fingers like thread,  
The dreams which life takes as its wine?  
What if no one believed in what their heart professed,  
What if the world presented itself  
As drearily as it truly is?  
Stamping your feet on the gutter of monotony,  
Eking short, dreary years in strange twilight,  
Time only an ally to bring about the end,  
An end to what was nothing to begin with.  
Why cling to a story told a million times;  
Why embrace the pain which seeps through the rocks?  
The mind dabbles in rancor when the heart runs away,  
But even rancor proves unfulfilling.  
If some deity stamped out daylight with a crooked toe,  
And tangible things to dust did scatter,  
In some maniacal scheme of grandeur,  
In some fanciful entity of dreams,  
In some way, shape, form, or other,  
Could you seriously divulge a way,  
Could you seriously bring the urge to fruition,  
To jump and shout, and ultimately wish,  
That it would matter?_  
  
  
But you can't leave! Misty pleaded, her arms sliding around my neck instead of my shoulders. You--you can't! I never told you I didn't love you anyway!  
  
I know you don't! I shouted back. If you _loved_ me, you wouldn't have--  
  
But I couldn't finish my statement. I looked at Ash, square in the eyes, breathing heavily as my soul fluttered upon the next words, but I couldn't eke them out.   
  
I'd never promised Misty anything, but I couldn't hurt the one that I _loved_.  
  
Because you saw me kissing him on the cheek? Misty asked, point blank. Late at night? While he was asleep?  
  
I turned back to her, sweat forming along my brow.  
  
Ash was puzzled when I last left his gaze, he didn't know she kissed him in his sleep.  
  
Misty drew my face closer to hers with her hands.  
  
she bit her lip. I kissed you first, just good night. That's probably why you woke up. I thought Ash would take it wrong--if you told him.  
  
My eyes widened, and I was embarrassed as a flush of tears ran in hot streams down my cheeks and onto her hands, but my body flushed with solstice as she pressed her lips to each astonished river and sweetly kissed each tear away.  
  
she swallowed, her face coming closer to mine.  
  
My whole world slipped away, and I cried like I've never cried before as she took my soul into hers, kissing away my hate and dreariness, pulling me free from my spiral towards nothingness.  
  
I could do nothing but blink at her as we looked at one another once again, and I stopped crying. She helped me stand, and Ash didn't even mention it.   
  
Are you still going to leave? she asked.  
  
I shook my head slowly, then looked at the ground.  
  
I wouldn't want you to leave, she smiled weakly.  
  
I don't want you to leave either, Ash bit his lip, ignoring the fact that he found out that Misty had kissed him good night while he was asleep.  
  
And I still felt pathetic.  
  
But I probably always will.  
  
Though, now that I think I know the difference between true love and infatuation, my loneliness might someday secede into the darkness from which it came.  
  
  
****a/n--if this sucks, sorry. I've been in a depressing writing mood, and it's weird to write from the pov of a guy. The poems are both mine. The first is called The Face of Loneliness, and the second is called I'm gonna do a second part from the P.O.V. of Misty. It won't be so stream-of-conciousness as this one because she's not going to be depressed. And you'll find out why she kissed them both good night.


End file.
